278 AD
One of the many rooms in Atrakes Belroy's house, Blackwalls, Volantis
" Okay, I'll repeat it all again, and if I'm wrong, you'll correct me ." I spoke these words, not taking my eyes off the baby in my arms. Golden hair, plump cheeks, and most astonishingly—eyes as red as the most precious rubies. According to Atrakes, such eyes were created by mixing pure Valyrian blood with any other. The Citadel Library had mentioned this, so I saw no reason not to believe him. This child was mine—that was indicated by the small birthmark under his shoulder blade, which my father, Aerys, and I also had, and the time of his conception. He was conceived almost a year ago, when I had been in Volantis for a whole month and often visited the pillow house.
" Okay ," the girl replied, along with her father, knocking the ground out from under my feet.
" Did Atraxes ask you to pretend to be a courtesan and sleep with me? " I asked slowly, watching every facial expression on the woman I, it turned out, knew nothing about.
" True ." Eilis said matter-of-factly, gracefully brushing a fallen lock of hair back with her hand. How beautiful she was at that moment... Her eyes, radiant and captivating, like the purest alexandrites, mingled so beautifully with her white, almost Quarthean milky skin, and her silver hair, flowing in gentle streams down her shoulders. Not a single mole, not a single wrinkle, not a single mark from her recent childbirth—she remained the same ethereal, unearthly creature with whom, by a happy chance, I had shared my nights.
"Okay, enough of this whining," I thought, mentally slapping myself and getting my thoughts back on track. "You're a grown, experienced man, and this beauty has you fooled."
" I suppose I wasn't the first person you've been asked to share a bed with, " I remarked as neutrally as possible, trying to look anywhere but at the girl. I needed to irritate her to get as much of the truth as possible. For the past half hour, she'd been answering me with monosyllabic, pre-prepared phrases that reeked of lies a mile away and obscured her true feelings.
" No. You were my first. " And I succeeded—a small wrinkle appeared on her perfect forehead, and a spark of anger flashed in her eyes for a moment.
" And you learned all your skills in bed by watching, " I continued sarcastically, watching as Ailis bit her lip in displeasure and clenched her hands into fists. No woman would like it if the father of her child implied that she was a whore.
" You... You... You-e... Fu-uh-h-h... " Just as she was about to unleash the choicest curses at me, something stopped her. Taking a deep breath, Eilis sat down on the opposite sofa and stared at me with her piercing purple gaze. " Why are you doing this?"
" What exactly? " I asked, feigning incomprehension.
" You're trying to get on my nerves. " My further excuses were cut off by a raised palm. " Felix, don't act like an idiot. I've studied you well enough to know you wouldn't stoop to such vulgar innuendos without a reason. What do you want to hear from me?"
" The truth ," I answered instantly, placing the sleeping baby in a nearby crib. " I need the truth about why you did all this, and not those canned answers you and your father fed me today and yesterday."
" Okay ," said the girl, who had been fed up with my questions and had apparently decided to speak frankly. " I'll answer all your questions. And in exchange, you'll listen to a few of my demands."
" Okay ." The key word in her phrase was "listen," so for me this was all pluses. " Have you already heard the first question—did your father ask you to pretend to be a courtesan and sleep with me?"
- Yes . - And the same instant answer.
" Why? You're his daughter. Couldn't you refuse him? " Seeing her mocking look, I immediately realized how stupid I'd been. I've been living in this world for nineteen years, and yet my old ways still come to the surface. I keep forgetting that women have very few rights here, even in aristocratic families. And my father's word was law for Ailis.
" There are actually several reasons ," she finally answered. " If you haven't forgotten, I'm the daughter of a concubine, and my prospects are slim. Either become a concubine like my mother, or marry one of my older , worthless brothers, or obey my father's orders and marry you. The latter option seemed the best to me."
By the end of the revelation, I sat there with my eyes wide as saucers, slowly going nuts. Such reasons couldn't even have occurred to me.
" No, don't think that's the only reason, " Eilis said, interpreting my silence in her own way. She began to babble, slightly panicked and a little embarrassed. " I liked you at first, both physically and emotionally... and you were gentle in bed, unlike most men, as most of the maids told me... and then I learned that you're a very intelligent and well-read conversationalist. " The girl blushed, lowering her head to the floor. " I really enjoyed corresponding with you. And when he appeared ," she pointed her finger at the baby, "I realized that in some way... I... fell in love... with you..."
At that moment, she turned the color of a boiled lobster, her cheeks so flushed you could light a cigarette from her. I couldn't resist and, lunging across the bookcase between the sofas, grabbed this beauty into my arms.
Yes, she may be an actress of Stanislavsky's caliber, performing a pre-rehearsed scene in front of me, maybe she wasn't telling me much, because even at first glance there are several holes in her story, and yes, she was very cunningly forced upon me, but...
"Oh... who am I kidding?" I thought, settling more comfortably next to the reclining girl. "I've fallen in love. Deeply and irrevocably. As they used to say—love is blind, you could fall in love even with a goat. Although here it's more like a fox, a snow fox. And my first wife was chosen for me by my parents, not by me. The result—almost thirty-five years of happy marriage, three pretty children, and eight beloved grandchildren. No matter, I can live with this liar, too. The main thing is to get her out of here quickly, before Atraxes spins her new orders."
- So what are your demands?
*
278 AD
Near the Grey Fortress, Sea of Dorne
Everything went much better than I expected.
After the "reconciliation" with my now fiancée, the last conversation with Belroy took place.
Flashback.
"So, father-in-law, let's talk like adults now," I said, sitting down in one of the chairs in Atraxes's office. After that day, every shred of respect I had for him had vanished, prompting me to immediately resort to more personal forms of address, irritating my future "relative" beyond belief. I even began speaking Andalos, knowing full well that even though Atraxes had learned it, he still found it unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
"Okay, son-in-law." The triarch's natural demeanor, having shed his veneer of drunken good-naturedness, and the office, locked with all the locks and windows, indicated that the conversation would be serious. Judging by the look of it, it had been specially built to minimize the chances of anyone overhearing us.
— The first question will concern compensation.
"Compensation?" the Volantean made a puzzled face.
"Compensation. Such antics, you see, really hurt one's professional and personal pride," I replied, my unblinking gaze never leaving my interlocutor. "Can you even imagine what will happen to me in Westeros when the local lords find out who I married and under what circumstances?"
But Belroy only laughed loudly at my words, such a lively and loud laugh that it became clear that there was something I didn't know.
"My dear Felax, tell me, how many people know that you slept with my daughter?" he asked me after he had laughed his fill.
I couldn't help but pause at this question. Come to think of it, I always spent my nights with Eilis in one of the most remote and private rooms in the entire establishment. There weren't even the perpetually running children or the children of the prostitutes working there. And I was always accompanied by the same woman, with one very interesting characteristic...
— You, me, the servants of this house, Eilis herself and the slave with the cut-out tongue...
"Your royal master of whisperers, Varys, seems to have long since earned a reputation among the high nobility of the Free Cities." Belroy smiled contentedly. It was clear he enjoyed the feeling of dominance, of being several steps ahead of his opponent without even realizing it. And now I'm in his shoes. "I'd be a fool not to take action. So you can assume that only you, me, and Ailis know this secret—that maid has long since fallen silent, and the servants who tend your bride will soon share her fate."
"Yes... It's moments like these that make you realize what kind of monsters those spider-filled jars called Free Cities can spawn," I thought, listening as dozens of innocent people were effectively sentenced to death. "God forbid I become one of them."
"Even if no one knows HOW I got married," he said, moving on to the next nuance that arose from this situation. "Then problems with origins arise."
— Origin?
"Ailis, if we translate the situation into the laws of the Seven Kingdoms, a bastard." Seeing the slight incomprehension in my father-in-law's eyes, I had to clarify. "A bastard child, who cannot claim the inheritance. And while they might be more or less understanding in Dorne, the other lords will brand the Temper line as rabble and mudbloods for the rest of my days."
The voiced problem made Atraxes only look at me in bewilderment, and then laugh out loud for the second time.
"Am I a joke to him or something?" I thought irritably, continuing to stare at the laughing Volantean with a stony face.
"Felax, my dear," Belroy asked, finally laughing and wiping away the tears that had welled up, looking at me with a twinkle in his eyes. "Tell me, who am I?"
The question was rhetorical, so he answered it himself.
"I am Atraxes Belroy! Head of the Belroy family, one of the five most powerful and wealthiest aristocratic clans in Volantis, blood of Ancient Valyria! The current triarch and head of the elephant party! In this city, there are only two men equal to me in power and might. Do you think if I name Ailis my first official daughter, anyone will say a word to me?"
I was, of course, taken aback by this way of putting the question, but I was quickly able to regain my composure.
"But it's not your words that determine that. Others will still know she's the eighth daughter by a concubine."
"And here, my dear Felax, your ignorance of the traditions of the Volantine aristocracy shows," Atraxes said with a smile, taking a sip of diluted wine to wet his throat. "Unlike you, inhabitants of the Sunset Kingdoms, we Volantenes keep the secret of our daughters' birth order and lineage a secret."
- For what?
"It's convenient," the triarch said matter-of-factly, shrugging. "Just imagine your first daughter was born—a simpleton, boring to look at, let alone sleep with. Same with the second. But the third turned out great. Beauty, charm, grace, and intelligence. And when someone wants to marry you, they'll want the third. Although, for status reasons, the first is better. And since no one knows their birth order, you can name the third first and marry her off without any problem. And the husband is happy—he's got both status and a beautiful woman, and you're happy—you need to pay less dowry. We even have a saying in Volantis: the older the daughter, the more beautiful she is.
I was, of course, completely taken aback by this revelation, but I didn't miss the phrase that followed.
"So Ailis will be my official third daughter, married to Lord Felax Temper of the Sunset Kingdoms!" Belroy laughed at the end of the sentence, downing another cup of wine, and I couldn't help but wonder—if Ailis is the "third daughter," then that meant there had been girls more beautiful in this family than her. Looking more closely at the lard sitting in the opposite chair, orange streaks of spilled wine dripping down his chin, it became clear they most certainly took after their mothers.
"Okay... We've resolved the main issues. Now let's talk about the dowry." My words instantly sobered my father-in-law, bringing him back to a collected and efficient demeanor.
"As a dowry for my beloved and beautiful daughter, I am prepared to give you a fortune—ten thousand gold Valar." I nearly choked on my wine from such impudence. Five thousand gold dragons for the daughter of a triarch who had also sucked so much of my blood was sheer robbery.
"Father-in-law, you're a good joker," I said, placing the goblet on the table and preparing for a serious battle. "But my wedding dress would cost more than the dowry you're offering. One hundred and fifty thousand."
Now it was Atraxes' turn to spit wine.
"You've decided to send me away! I've already given you everything I hold most dear. I've provided you with an heir! Eleven."
"But that doesn't compensate for all the moral damage you've caused me. 149,500 Valar."
— You'll send me packing! Should I go naked to a meeting of the triarchs? Twelve thousand.
"But you said yourself you were six times richer than me! But I'll knock another five hundred off, all right?"
- You ungrateful brat! I'll...
- Oh, who am I hearing this from! I was spinning...
The end f lashback .
*
Ultimately, it was decided that the dowry for the Volantean beauty would amount to almost forty thousand gold dragons—by the end of the discussion, Atraxes and I nearly came to blows when we began arguing over silver and copper coins, purely out of professional pride. Plus, Belroy, as promised, financed the relocation of nearly three thousand workers to my lands, along with their families and belongings. He even promised to provide enough food for six months to feed this horde.
The wedding was planned for the end of next year, once at least the keep at my castle was completed and permission for the wedding had been received from Doran Martell, who, as overlord, was required to approve all weddings of his vassals. Until then, Ailis and the baby, who they eventually decided to name Lyon, would live at Atraxes's estate, where they would be looked after. Remembering how that fat beetle tried to extort money from me for the upkeep of "such a beautiful and young girl who requires the utmost care," a sarcastic smirk automatically appeared on my face.
"No," I thought, standing on the brig's bow and watching the spires of the Red Mountains, among which my fiefdom lay, appear on the horizon. "Atraxes will certainly die a natural death. He's too cunning and perceptive to be simply killed. More likely, his death will come from his lifestyle, not the machinations and intrigues of his enemies."
There's a well-established saying in Volantis: "A poor triarch is one who can't even die himself." In that viper's nest called the Free City, where poison and dagger never gather dust, dying a natural death, lying in bed among relatives who hated you but could do nothing about it, was considered an honor.
The main thing is that Atraxes doesn't indulge in old age and repeat the fate of Khoronno. A legendary figure. He was elected triarch annually for forty years, after which he declared himself triarch for life. The Volantine nobility, realizing their rightful rise had been denied, rose up against the usurper and executed him, tying him to four elephants, which tore him to pieces. A very instructive story about what happens to those who rise too high without a solid foundation.
In the meantime, I have nothing to worry about - with a Volantean triarch as my father-in-law, I can do a lot of things.
*
278 A.D. (five months later)
Sunfire Valley
Construction was proceeding at full speed—the first workers promised by Alkaro had arrived, and the ships sent to the Basilisk Islands for artisans had returned. Hoar returned with a truly rich haul—842 of the 1,093 artisans he had purchased had decided to remain in my lands and work with me in gratitude for their release from the rotten pirate cages and their freedom.
The rest, those with family and friends remaining in Elyria and Lhazosh, were loaded onto the Black Panther and sent home to their hometowns. But even from this, I was able to reap my reward—I now have nearly two hundred highly loyal informants who will report to me on the situation in Lhazar and Slaver's Bay.
Now, looking at the castle foundation being gradually poured with concrete, and looking around, I realized how much needed to be done.
Yes, the foundations had already been laid and the sewer system for the castle town, which would be located near the docks, had been installed. Yes, the foundations of the first manufactories, smelters, and artisan shops had already been laid, just waiting for the ships with the necessary equipment to arrive and the first mine, located on the southern ridge, to begin operating. But there was simply a ton of work to do. All the arriving workers had to be monitored, each one assigned a task, provided with housing, food, and a proper latrine (thank goodness, once the first sewer line was installed, this became unnecessary).
There were some unpleasantries, too. Coming from diverse ethnic backgrounds, most of the new arrivals didn't understand each other at all, or if they did, it was on the level of "yours here, mine there." There were also fights over religion—Essos boasts a wide variety of faiths, from popular R'Glorianism to local idolatries like the Pattern Maker or the Stone Cow. Therefore, conflicts on this level were almost nonexistent. But... between Essos and Andals, arguments and fights flared up just like that. It turned out that among the several hundred settlers who came from the Stormlands and Dorne, there were several septons for whom living alongside the "heathens from across the Narrow Sea" proved unbearable. Several fights broke out, broken up by loyal northerners and hired mercenaries. I ordered the septons and all the ringleaders to be flogged for sabotaging the work, and I said that I forbade all disputes and fights over religion on my lands.
When the septons accused me of not honoring the Seven and should retreat to Hell, I merely ordered Edward to unload a special cargo from a recently arrived ship, which immediately silenced the local clergy. The relatively young, but already tall and wide, weirwood trees were purchased by the "Beast King" sent to Skagos, along with a cargo of timber and obsidian needed to produce proper concrete, and planted in a specially designated spot. Thus, I officially became a follower of the Old Gods—in my opinion, the most adequate and demanding religion on all of Planetos.
"So what?" I thought, watching the workers plant the last weirwood. "I'm half-northern, so I'm born to believe in the Old Gods. And the lack of official priests plays a role—no one will come to me demanding money to build a new sept or to stage a blood sacrifice in the name of [insert name here] . Beautiful."
"Felix!" Robin called out to me, my old friend who had studied and traveled with me since the Citadel. "You have a letter!"
Unfortunately, until the castle is finished, I don't have the right to invite an official maester to oversee the raven house and serve as a liaison with the main university of the Seven Kingdoms. So for now, his duties are being filled by Robin—the only one who has spent enough time under Archmaester Walgrave's guidance to even come close to forging an iron link.
"Thank you," I said, taking the letter in my hands and glancing at the wax seal. I immediately disliked it. What did someone from House Targaryen want from me? Quickly breaking the seal and, without bothering to find a special knife, opening the letter with the hunting knife hidden in my boot, I began to carefully read the letter. Its sender was clear from the very first lines—only Aerys Targaryen possessed such a jagged and clumsy handwriting and could so brazenly demand something from a vassal of another house.
If you boil down all the empty rhetoric to a minimum, the meaning is as clear as day—they demanded that I immediately arrive in the capital, immediately upon receiving the letter, threatening me with all earthly punishments. And there's no point in resisting. Even though I know this monarch won't die a natural death, he's still king, and his word carries more weight than any words of Tywin Lannister. I'll have to obey. The main thing is to understand what he wants from me.
"Robin!" I shouted, carefully folding the letter and placing it in one of my many pockets.
"Yes," he responded quickly, not having time to go too far.
"Call Sigrid and begin preparing my brig," I said, quickly jotting down notes and notes on a scroll I would later give to Joen. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but the work must continue. This is too crucial a time, and every day of delay means too much loss. And my accounts aren't infinite. "You get ready too. You'll sail with me."
"Okay," he answered quickly, apparently calculating how much supplies needed to be loaded onto the ship. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
— To King's Landing. The king has summoned me.
*
End of 278 AD
Not far from Twilight Valley
"Are you sure, Sigrid?" I asked again, nervously looking over the horizon toward the royal capital.
"Yes," replied the girl, whose eyes had returned to normal, indicating the broken connection with the bird. "There's a storm raging over King's Landing. It's very dangerous to sail there. It could come for us."
"Good." I nodded and, after a moment's thought, shouted a new order to the sailor at the helm. "Turn northwest! Head for Twilight Valley!"
"Yes, my lord!" the helmsman replied, shouting over the roar of the waves as he slowly began to turn the wheel, changing the ship's course.
"Okay. Sigrid, let's go to the cabin. You'll catch a cold from the damp," I said, covering the girl with a fur cloak and leading her toward the captain's quarters.
Each use of their gift takes a toll on a Warg, especially if they're young and still growing, not only mentally but physically. A powerful appetite awakens, their temperature rises (especially pronounced in bird tamers), and drowsiness sets in. Some Wargs experience these symptoms more than others. For example, after a long period of possession, Volkan can easily devour a single serving of meat, enough for several grown men. Sigrid, on the other hand, developed a severe fever, putting her at risk of illness. So after each "bird bonding session," she would return to my cabin, where I would give her special decoctions and infusions, purchased back on the Isthmus, which at least helped her regain her composure.
The five-hour journey to Duskendale passed as usual: an hour of training with a sword and axe, an examination of one of the sailors who had foolishly pinched a mast rope, which, having snapped, left a giant scar on his back, a small lunch, and the reading of several Rhoynar treatises on construction, translated into Valyrian and bought in Norvos.
So I almost missed the moment Duskendale appeared on the horizon. Situated on the shores of the Narrow Sea, a few days' sail north of King's Landing, it was once the center of the small kingdom of the Darklyns. This kingdom of the First Men, according to ancient tomes, existed as far back as the Age of Heroes, before the Great Andal Migration, but later fell to the onslaught of its larger neighbors. However, the Darklyns, who continue to rule one of the largest ports on the eastern coast, have not lost much of their power.
Duskendale itself was built around a gigantic natural harbor, whose limestone cliffs and rocky outcrops protected the ships moored within from the tempests and storms that frequently swept in from the Narrow Sea. Even from here, ten kilometers inland, the towering castle of Duskendale was visible, its gray square keep and large round towers rising like peaks into the overcast sky, blurred against it.
But as soon as my brig had sailed a couple more miles, it became clear that all was not well in the Danish kingdom. The harbor entrance was securely blocked by dozens of war galleys, with the pennants of the Targaryens and Vellarions fluttering in the wind. A large army had set up camp right outside the city walls, over which two standards fluttered equally: a golden lion rearing on a crimson field, and a seven-headed silver dragon on a black field.
"Something serious is going on if the King's Hand and the Silver Prince are here," I blurted out as I watched one of the blockade ships separate from the others and head toward us.
"Who are you? Why have you sailed to Duskendale?" the knight with the seahorse on his leather armor asked me first, raising his hand. It was clear that as soon as he gave the signal, my ship would become a scorpion bolt cushion.
Stepping forward and taking out the very letter that had made me rush here, I introduced myself:
"My name is Felix Temper. I am a vassal of House Martell. Two weeks ago, I received a letter demanding my presence in the capital from the king himself." Seeing that my words were not being fully believed, I approached and, over the side, handed the letter to the knight in question.
"My apologies, lord. Why didn't you sail for King's Landing straight away?" he asked, reading the letter and handing it back to me. His tone changed, immediately becoming more accommodating and polite. After all, the status of a vassal lord in the Seven Kingdoms is quite high.
"A storm is raging over the capital," I replied, hoping he wouldn't ask for details. People are different, after all, with their quirks. "I decided it would be quicker to go through Duskendale. Sire, can you tell me what's going on here?"
The Velaryon Knight was deep in thought for almost five minutes before answering:
"Duskvale is under siege. Denys Darklyn, may all the demons of Hell devour his soul, captured our King Aerys two and a half weeks ago. The Lord Hand and the Crown Prince have been negotiating with him for five days now, but so far it's been no use." The warrior dumped a shocking piece of information on me that nearly made my jaw drop through the upper deck. "By decree of Lord Tywin, all ships coming to Duskvale must dock and undergo a full inspection before being released. Lord Temper, please take no offense, but you will have to follow me."
"Of course, of course," I replied quickly, gesturing for the helmsman to follow the war galley, lost in my own thoughts. "What was Darklyn thinking, deciding to do something like this? This is pure idiocy. His line will be completely exterminated after the assassination attempt on the king, or worse, knowing the ruling dynasty's love of fire. Too little information... I hope I'll find out the answers to all my questions soon. But be that as it may, this is a turning point in the history of the Seven Kingdoms. Now the people's faith in the sanctity of the Targaryens is completely shattered. And this is the beginning of their end. Sooner or later, the remaining Grandlords will rise to reclaim their former independence, and knowing the odds, it will be either the North or the Vale, which are essentially natural fortresses, or the West, whose keeper Aerys has really gotten on my nerves. All that's left is to wait and prepare... Yes, wait and prepare."